Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
“Revenant. Scourge. Unnatural, semi-undead bitch. Call me whatever you want now, because you won’t be speaking much longer.”
The mage sneers. “You may have corrupted the most promising legacies of this generation, but you will never unleash the Entity on this world, you filthy, cursed abomination!”
This time, I can’t help the grin that pops up on my face at the thought of “corrupting” my quintet.
Sounds fun.
Crypt looks at the nevermelt stuck in my arm again and promptly snaps one of the mage’s upper arms. Gibbons’ startled scream is satisfying, but then I watch in twisted fascination as Crypt’s fingertips dig into the flesh around one of the mage’s eyes.
“What the hell are you doing, you sick fuck?” Everett scowls.
“This bloke’s aura is nauseating, and he’s watched us with these beady little eyes for far too long.”
“Don’t like how he keeps glaring at my mate,” Baelfire agrees.
Gibbons’ screaming grows louder, so I glance at Silas.
“We’ll need privacy for what I have in mind.”
He nods and pricks his finger to cast a blood magic spell. Runes flare to life in a large circle around us. Although I can still hear the faint echo of holiday music outside the parking lot between the interim headmaster’s screams, I’m positive we won’t be overheard now.
“Now that we’re nice and alone—” I begin.
“Hang on, Oakley. Silas, come here,” Everett says, gently pulling me to my feet and trying to pry the shard from my shoulder with his fingertips.
Pain lances out from the injury. I try to brush him off, but he pins me with a glacial glare unlike any expression I’ve seen on him so far.
My elemental is pissed.
“Hold still. You need to be healed.”
“That can wait. Silas needs to conserve his magic for what I have in mind for Gibbons.”
Gibbons’ delectable screams of pain turn into sobs as Crypt casually tosses one of his eyeballs to the side. Baelfire bares his teeth again.
“I have several things in mind for this kiss-ass for trying to kill you. Why rush?”
“There’s the spirit, lizard.” Crypt grins in maniacal approval, pressing into the mage’s broken arm so Gibbons shouts again. “Let’s take it nice and slow so our girl can savor his screams.”
Seeing the vengeful, twisted fury on their faces just for me makes my stomach flutter.
Like I said. I’m catching feelings.
“Ready?” Everett checks with Silas, who stands behind me with a necromantic healing spell already prepared. He’s removed his winter gloves so his blackened fingertips are visible, which earns a gasp of horror from Gibbons.
“Necromancer!” the old caster croaks, sniveling as he tries again to free himself. “No, no, it can’t be! H—how could the brightest student now be one of the damned, soulless?—“
“Shut up,” Baelfire snaps.
Everett finally pries the nevermelt from my shoulder while I try not to show pain. The moment it slips free and the blood begins gushing, Silas’s spell sinks into my skin. It’s the same prickling, unnatural sensation I’ve experienced countless times at the hands of the necromancers in the Nether, but somehow…more intimate.
Probably because of our bond.
Better? Silas asks in my head, his focus still on the arm he’s healing.
I nod.
Let’s hope you have enough magic left over for what comes next.
Which is what, exactly?
I’m going to corrupt you further. Hope you don’t mind.
He smirks and lightly kisses my brow just as he finishes the spell. My arm still aches, and my fingers are ice cold, but the worst of the damage is gone.
I once again crouch beside the interim headmaster. He’s a bloody, one-eyed mess who glares like he wants to kill me.
“I have three questions for you.”
His lips curl in disgust. “I’m not telling you anything. You are the prophesied doom of the mortal world, the scourge of all mortals! Wretched, nasty little horror?—“
Crypt reaches down and breaks the mage’s nose with one twist of his hand. “One more word from you that isn’t an answer to my keeper’s questions, and you’ll be fodder for the wisps.”
Gibbons makes a strangled sound, puffing air to try to blow off the blood. “
Fine!
Fine, I’ll talk. I’ll tell you anything you want if you let me go after!”
My nose wrinkles. Ally or foe, there’s nothing worse than a person with no loyalty. “First question. How did you know what I am?”
“T—the Immortal Quintet figured it out. They sent out an official alert to legacies in high positions. We’re all under orders to keep it from the humans to avoid mass panic.”
Wise of them. “Are you still in contact with the Legacy Council?”
His gaze darts to Everett. “Yes. I’ve been in contact with Alaric Frost since the day his son returned to Everbound. He gave me a scrying brand to report back to him on everything.”
Scrying brands are an ancient practice—a temporary magical marking within one’s skin, similar to a tattoo, that allows communication no matter the distance. They’re painful to acquire and never last longer than a year or two, but they’re efficient.
Especially because they’re also imbued with tracing spells. Which, in this case, was precisely what I was hoping for.
Everett doesn’t look surprised to learn his father was spying on him, but he still glares at the mage. “Thanks for that.”
“I promise it wasn’t personal, Mr. Frost! He was only concerned for you.”
Everett scoffs. “If you believed that, you have shit for brains.”
The mage’s face reddens. “He said you have exhibited alarming, family-shaming qualities ever since you left home early, and he was worried you would get mixed up in shameful dealings. And clearly, he was right! It is shocking that you, of all people, would willingly remain matched to this hellish, Undead corpse?—“
Crypt grips Gibbons’ broken nose between his knuckles and twists hard. “
Manners.”
The mage yelps and struggles again. I sense a small pulse of magic from him, but clearly, he’s tapped out.
That’s fine. I don’t need his magic. Just him, since he has that scrying brand on his body.
“Final question. Who did you tell that we’re here?”
“Everyone,” he says immediately. “The Legacy Council and the bounty hunters. T—they’ll be here any moment.”
I stare at him, watching his dilated pupils as sweat rolls over his brow. There’s a slight twitch in his right eye, and his gaze keeps skipping elsewhere.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.